The Quest
by CharlesTheBold
Summary: Freshmen Joan and Adam were looking forward to spending Christmas vacation at home.  But instead they find themselves travelling around the country on a mission - and they're not even sure what the mission is.
1. The Summons

**THE QUEST**

_(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with JOAN. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it)_

_(Author's Note: This story is part of a series speculating what might have happened to Joan after the end of the series. In prior stories Joan has let Adam, Luke, Helen, and Lily into the secret, and is now married to Adam_)

**Chapter 1 The Summons**

Joan had survived the first term in college. No, that was putting it too negatively. She had actually done well. She had made good grades in all of her courses, and impressed her law professor, which was fortunate because that may end up as her career. She had also made some friends while acting in a college play, and had won some respect by taking a position, unpopular but ultimately vindicated, in a local political dispute.

She wondered: was the success pre-determined? Three years ago she had been a rather aimless girl, apathetic about how she did in school. Then a series of mysterious strangers, each claiming to be an attribute of God, had given her missions to go on. The missions had had good ripples, but Joan didn't think that was the only point. She thought that "God" was training her for some destiny in the future, and that encouraging her to take more interest in her education was the first step.

But now, it was time for Christmas vacation, and she was going home. Although her father-in-law had sold his residence, including the studio where Adam had done his artworks, her own parents had decided to retain their home, even with two of the kids off to college. She and Adam would be able to sleep in her own room, assuming that Adam didn't mind somewhat girly surroundings. Luke would get his room back. Kevin had already moved back into his room, with his pregnant wife Lily. It would be crowded, but it would be all family.

The day before she was to start home, she decided to take a walk through the Baconia campus. She and Adam lived in an apartment off campus because the University didn't take married undergraduates into account. She didn't much mind, but it cut her off from dorm life. Maybe that was good: could she keep her secret in a crowded dormitory? But she could at least take a walk through the student-housing area.

She saw a girl emerge from one of the dormitories, pulling a suitcase on a leash. Joan didn't know her, but the girl spotted her and said "Hello."

"Hi," replied Joan, and in order to make conversation, she added "Heading home?"

"Eventually," said the girl. "First, though, I'm going to visit a friend in Princeton." She gave Joan a searching look. "I think you ought to visit there, too."

Joan was used to mysterious strangers suddenly giving her hints about how to run her life. "Oh. You're HER."

"Yes, I AM Me," said the student, somehow managing to speak in capital letters.

"So what's in Princeton?"

"A university."

"I know THAT. I mean, what do you want me to do in Princeton?"

"It'll become clear soon after you get there."

That was another thing Joan was used to: not getting much advance information. It was irritating, but she thought she knew the reason: the deity wanted her to be alert to problems that needed her help to fix. "All right. Should Adam come along too?"

"Definitely. Oh, and by the way – I appreciate the sacrifice of free will, but you shouldn't have to handle the expenses. If you rent a car or check into a hotel, you will find that the bill is pre-paid."

"Where is the money coming from? Do you have a human source, or are you conjuring it up?"

But as usually happened, when Joan started asking for details, Student God was already wandering off, dragging Her suitcase and giving a backhand wave. Joan sighed and headed back to her apartment. It occurred to her that Student God hadn't specified which car agencies and hotels had the account with the money. Apparently She foreknew which ones Joan and Adam would use.

At home she explained the new mission to Adam, who took it in stride, as if mysterious missions came up every day. He didn't mind the detour: he tended to live in his own world, and didn't much care where he was in the real world as long as he had Joan and the opportunity to create art. "But your family is expecting us tomorrow, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Mom and Sister Lily will understand. We'll have to invent some cover story for Dad and Kevin,"

But Helen, when Joan dialed her, was not as understanding as Joan had hoped.

"But you can't just change things at the last minute! I was hoping that the five of us – you, Adam, Luke, Lily, and me – could get together and figure out how to break the news to Will and Kevin. I'm tired of having to lie to my loved ones. Just what's going on in Princeton that's so important?"

"I'm not sure. Call it a leap of faith."

"You can call it a leap of faith if you want. I call it being forced to jump through hoops, like a show horse. But you're nineteen now and I can't dictate to you. Go on the trip if you must."

"I'll try to wind it up as quick as I can and rush back home, Mom." She uttered a few more conciliatory phrases and hung up, highly dissatisfied. She explained the call to her husband. "Mom does have a point. I wish we had more of an idea why we're needed in Princeton."

Adam pondered. "Wasn't that movie about the crazy mathematician set in Princeton?"

"A BEAUTIFUL MIND, yeah. Luke loved it. But for that very reason, if it was something like a crazy mathematician, God would be sending Luke there, not us." Joan stared at their luggage. "OK, let's take it one step at a time. Either way we go, we'll need luggage for several days. God hinted that we'd need to rent a car, so we'll do that tomorrow morning. I'll check routes on the Internet, and get a map of the town."

But her mother's questioning still bothered her. That night she had a dream, probably because her Mom's remark about show-horses reminded her about a visit she had made to her friend Morgiana Begh. Maggie's family raised horses, and she was training one to perform what Maggie called dressage. "Part of the problem," Maggie had said at the time, "is that you can't explain to the horse what you want. It doesn't understand Turkish, or English. I suppose to its mind we're asking it to go through a meaningless ritual."

It was a genuine memory, but it had a new meaning to Joan now. Was Joan in the position of the horse, not being told things because they were beyond her understanding?

Or – something she was afraid to verbalize, even to Adam – was it possible that she was about to embark on a meaningless ritual?


	2. Step 1

**THE QUEST**

**Chapter 2 Step 1**

"Wow," admired Joan as they drove alongside the main walls of the campus. "It's like a medieval castle. Or Hogwarts."

"Stands to reason," remarked Adam, who had studied some architecture in this term's art classes. "Probably both Princeton and the school in the movie were modeled on medieval universities like Oxford or Cambridge.

Driving alongside and admiring the view was fine, but they needed to get inside. There seemed to be few entrances, and when they finally found one, a friendly guard explained that only a few vehicles were allowed on campus. Fortunately there was a shopping area adjoining the campus; the couple found a place to park their car, found a guidebook, and proceeded onto campus on foot.

God had not given them any clue about where to look for their mission on campus. Adam, looking at the campus map with his artist's eye – it looked like a jumble to Joan - noticed that there seemed to be a prominent walkway across the main campus, connecting the university store on the west end to the college chapel on the east end, passing behind the administration building. Joan agreed to try it.

Adam's instincts were good: the walkway was more dazzling in its reality than it looked on the map. Overlooking the store was a high tower, which the map called Blair Arch. About 5 minutes into their walk they passed two buildings which looked like Greek temples, and apparently given the odd names of Wig and Cleo. (When she looked at the guidebook they were spelled Whig and Clio, which seemed a little more dignified). Another five minutes brought them to the chapel, which looked like a medieval cathedral.

The towering building triggered some thoughts in Joan's mind. Her sister-in-law Lily was a former nun, and still worked at the local Catholic church in Arcadia. Her Mom attended services there, though without formally becoming a member there. But the pair made no attempt to bring in the rest of the family, and Joan, in spite of three years acquaintance with the Deity, felt no drive to attend the church. God could talk to Joan anywhere, in any form, whenever He liked, and indeed it sometimes happened more frequently than Joan would like.

After the chapel, the path crossed a street and turned into a more conventional suburban lane. Joan wandered whether to continue that way or double back. Adam voted to turn back, and though she thought he was mainly motivated by the desire to see more of the medieval architecture, she went along with the idea.

They were passing the Greek temples again when Joan stopped. "Wait, Adam. See that girl sitting on that bench?"

"Yeah. Did you spot something odd about her?"

"Not directly. But she was sitting there when we came by the other way. She's not reading, and she doesn't seem to be looking for somebody. And she's not dressed warmly enough for this weather."

"I see what you mean. Very pre-occupied. Maybe worried about something. Do you think she's the one we're supposed to help?"

"We can give it a try." Joan walked up, wondering how to strike up a conversation with a perfect stranger. "Um, can we help you?"

"No," said the girl. "Go away."

Which seemed to be an indication that there WAS something wrong. Joan tried to sound non-chalant. "Okay. But it's getting cold, and you might want to step inside somewhere, or you'll catch your death of pneumonia."

"If I die, fine. At least that'll solve most of my problems," the girl mumbled.

Ugh. But it least that depressed remark gave them an opening. "Maybe we can solve them in a less drastic way," Joan suggested.

The girl stared at her. "Why do you care? Who are you guys anyway? I haven't seen you around."

"My name's Joan Girardi-Rove, and this is my husband Adam. We're from a small Pennsylvania school, Baconia University" It occurred to Joan a minute later that it might have been better to give fake names, particularly if the girl started thinking Joan was crazy, which frequently happened. But the names were already out and couldn't be taken back. "We're, um, thinking of transferring here, and thought we'd have a look at the campus. We were worried, seeing you sit in the cold like that. But if you'd prefer us to leave you alone—"

"Wait," said the girl. She stared at the couple again, but in a different way. "I think I can trust you two. Nobody else noticed anything wrong, but you guys were concerned about a total stranger."

Joan wondered if she and Adam would have been as alert to suffering if they hadn't gotten a warning from God. She's like to think so – and anyway, it seemed useful to let the girl believe it. "I'd like to hear the story, but can we talk about it someplace warmer?"

The girl pointed to an odd-looking building nearby. "That's the Pub. Actually they can't serve alcohol to underage students, but we can order some Cokes and get warm."

"Okay."

They walked into the building which, like so much of the campus, looked faux-ye-olde-England. They seated themselves at an old-fashioned oaken table with the soft drinks.

"My name is Cathy Adams," said the girl. "I have an older brother named Darryl, and that's part of the problem. Darryl is 24, and he's running a successful Internet business with a friend, Lionel. SpeedofThought dot com. Not just selling things over the Internet, but USING the Internet in clever ways. When I graduate, they'll take me into the business. My sister too; she's studying accounting and can help keep the money straight so Darry and Lenny can concentrate on the computers."

"Sounds good," Adam said. "Lots of students have trouble getting jobs, just out of college."

"Yeah," said Cathy morosely. "Everything sounded great until about a week ago. That's when my brother disappeared. AND his girlfriend Lizzy. AND a lot of expensive new computer equipment."

"You think he took the stuff and eloped with his girl?" asked Adam.

"No, I don't! Darry is my brother, and I've known him all my life, and I don't think he'd do anything like this! But Lenny thinks so. He threatened to call the police about the theft of the equipment – but it's in both their names and apparently they hadn't set up formal rules about who could use it when. Lenny's still threatening to sue us." She sighed. "So that's that. I need to know where my brother is and what he's doing, if he's NOT cheating his partner. It's so unlike him to go off and not tell anybody, particularly in a situation like this. And I can't imagine him and Lizzy just having fun and letting the family worry."

"You need to have faith in your brother."

"I do. But faith is not going to straighten out my life again. My future is all screwed up, and my sister's. I need to know Darry's all right. And I like Lenny; it's painful to listen to him talk about how my family has cheated him."

"Well, uh, if we think of something we'll let you know." Another lame reply. Joan had thought her task was to help Cathy with her attitude, but Cathy had already thought through that well enough. Nor could Joan explicitly bring God into the conversation. She had to wait and discuss this with Adam in private.

"Yeah, thanks, well it isn't your problem. At least you listened and helped me get it off my chest." The dejected Cathy got up, clearly not expecting to encounter the Girardi-Roves again. But Joan knew better: this was an unfinished mission.

Shortly afterward they checked into a local hotel room. The desk clerk assured them that their reservation had been prepaid – that was God working behind the scenes. Joan wondered whether He actually had a human aide doing the financial stuff, or whether He just willed the money around, but that wasn't the big problem. Not to mention Joan knew she'd never get the answer to that question.

They had specified a room with a data port, and Joan plugged in her laptop. "SpeedofThought dot com. There it is. And they included their address in "Contact Us", it's in Brooklyn."

"So we COULD pay a visit," observed Adam.

"Yeah. But I want to go home! Not just because of the leisure time, but to be with the family, particularly if we're going to tell Dad about me."

"But you've never left a mission half done, Jane."

"No. I wish I knew where I screwed up."

Adam thought for a minute. Joan wondered later how much of it was actually marshalling his thoughts, and how much was building the nerve to make his next statement.

"Maybe we didn't screw up, Jane. Maybe we were meant all along to take a second step and go to Brooklyn. As for the family – well, maybe God doesn't WANT us to tell the secret to your Dad and Kevin."

"You think this is a huge diversionary maneuver? Why not just TELL me not to talk about it?"

"Mysterious ways and ripples, remember?"

Joan pondered, but shook her head. "No, I don't think He'd be that tricky. I think it's a genuine mission to help that family. Maybe we could have solved it in the Pub, maybe not. That's water under the bridge now. We'll go to Brooklyn."

"OK." Adam paused. "Now how do we break the news to your Mom?"

"Oh, God," Joan moaned at the thought. Then she looked up heavenward. "No please don't answer that—we're on it!"

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Step 2, Brooklyn

**THE QUEST**

**Chapter 3 **

**Step 2, Brooklyn**

"You two are going on ANOTHER side trip?"

"Yes, Mom. It looks like the only one to solve Cathy's problem."

"But why do you NEED to solve Cathy's problem?" asked Helen's voice in exasperation. "There are more than 7 million people in New York City, and many of them probably have problems. What makes Cathy's more important? Particularly since we have a problem as well – figuring out how to take Kevin and Will into the secret."

"I – don't know. God seems to have a reason."

Helen's voice sighed on the other end of the phone link. "OK, I'll go along on one condition. This time, YOU have to explain to Will why you're putting off your return home."

After some marital discussion Adam, who was less intimidated that Joan about the idea of lying to Will, placed a call to his father-in-law. In his quiet but determined way, he explained that a classmate was having problems at home, and that he and "Jane" wanted to try and help out.

"Well, it's quite mature of you to put off on your own happiness for the sake of some friends," replied Will. "I just hope that you're not getting in over your head, trying to solve somebody else's worries."

"I'm sure that we can handle it, sir," said Adam_. Because otherwise God wouldn't have sent them on the mission in the first place._

"Well, good luck then. Hope to see you soon."

Adam switched off the phone. "He's cool with it."

"Is he?" said Joan bitterly. "I'm not. It's embarrassing, being frightened of talking to my own Dad. No wonder that Mom is getting tired of all the evasions; she has to deal with it all the time."

"All the more reason to finish with the mission as soon as possible, and head home," said Adam.

"Right."

The next day they checked out of the Princeton hotel; as predicted by God, there was no trouble with the hotel bill.

Joan had mapped a route into Brooklyn that went through Staten Island and circumvented Manhattan. All the same, she was awed by the sheer population density when they were going through the New York area. "Population density" – that was a cold, dry term. What it really meant was that every dwelling they passed contained a family that was as important in God's sight as the Girardis themselves. How could God keep track of all of them? It was easy to say "because He's omniscient", but that too was mere words. Joan could not imagine the sort of Mind that could contain all that – and yet she frequently yakked with God as if he was a boy from down the street.

Luke had said, on several occasions, that he found it difficult to associate the abstract God discussed by Einstein with the human forms that he encountered. Joan did not share her brother's determination to make sense of the universe, but she felt the paradox now. Her Mom was right to question – what was it that made Cathy's difficulties more urgent to solve than anybody else's? But it wasn't as if Joan was going to get a straight answer even if she asked.

They drove their rent-a-car through the streets of Brooklyn until they found the address from the website: a small office building. It was rather unimpressive, outside and in. Joan walked down the anonymous corridors of the building and, once again, wondered why one particular business here was so important in the eyes of God.

Finally they found a door marked SpeedOfThought dot com. The sign looked drab, not dazzlingly professional. The door itself was closed, not open with a receptionist on guard, as would be the case with a larger business. Joan knocked.

A few seconds passed, and finally a bearded young man answered it. "Yes?" he asked, with an unspoken implication of _why are you interrupting me at my work?_

Joan braced herself. This wasn't like walking up to a strange girl on a campus, where every student tended to trust each other. This was New York. "Hi. I'm Joan Girardi-Rove and this is my husband, Adam. We're school friends of Cathy Adams—" Joan left out the fact that they had known Cathy for about one day.

"Oh, so Cathy sent you to try to talk me over, right?" he asked bitterly.

"No, we came on our own accord."

"Why?"

_Good question_, thought Joan_. I can scarcely say that God sent me_. Aloud she said," We thought that we could help, as a neutral third party."

"Scarcely very neutral, if you're friends of Cathy's."

"That's why we came. To hear your side." She was skirting the obvious question _of why is this any of your business, _and wondering if he was going to say so and slam the door in her face. Instead Lionel said suddenly, "Come in then. But you must promise to keep what I say confidential."

"We will."

The Girardi-Roves entered. It was a small office, and rather a mess, with printouts and machine parts lying about, but the disarray did not bother Joan. She knew and loved enough brainy types to be used to it, starting with Luke.

"Okay," said Lionel. "I suppose Cathy told you the background. Darry and I were cooperating on a new idea. We weren't very formal with dividing the credit, because of each of us was inspiring the other. Yes, Darry was inspiring. Then something went wrong."

"Do you know what?" asked Adam.

"I don't know. I thought at one point that it was Lizzie. He meets the girl, and suddenly he's less willing to work late on the project at night. He'd rather visit Lizzie and, well, you can guess. Then he'd be tired in the morning. I was about to complain about it when Lizzie herself worked out a solution. Some nights of the week would be for work, and some nights would be for pleasure. I liked the way she tackled the problem before it became a big one, and I decided there was no reason to blame Lizzie. But whatever it is that Darry's doing now, Lizzie's doing it with him. I don't know which one talked the other into it."

"What do you think they're trying to do?" Joan asked.

"I don't know for sure, but worst case: the stolen hardware could give him a headstart over me. Darryl could develop the program alone to the point where he could demo it to a large software company and land a huge contract. If he does that, and then I try to claim it's partly my work, I'll look like a parasite trying to horn in on his success."

"Just what does this software do?" inquired Adam.

Lionel suddenly looked wary. "I don't really want to get into that. Hard to explain to laymen, and besides, I have to protect business secrets."

Joan sighed, but could tell he wouldn't budge on the subject if they pushed. "Okay, do you know where Darryl is?"

"Just found out. I hired a detective – not to snoop on the couple, but just to find out where he went. There are in a seacoast town named Sarasota, Florida. Staying at something called the Paradise Hotel. Presumably enjoying the sun and beach life and other things while working on the program."

"Have you considered following him down there?"

"Yeah, but the detective advised against it. Better bring the matter into court rather than have a potentially violent confrontation."

Joan was studying law, but she didn't know if Lionel's approach was a good idea or not. If this was all some weird misunderstanding, a court proceeding could create unnecessary bitterness on both sides, and waste a lot of money. "How about asking Cathy to go to Sarasota?"

"No! I don't want that family getting together and planning how to take advantage of me. I don't have any friends on my side; that's why I was willing to talk to you two. Darry has his sisters and Lizzie and maybe other cronies I don't know about. And remember your promise. I don't want YOU to tell Cathy about Sarasota either. If she DOES go, I'll know she was lying when she said she didn't know what her brother was up to."

"Well, I guess we have nothing else to talk about, then," said Joan, annoyed. "Anything else, Adam?"

"No, Jane."

"Then we'll get back to you if we think of anything. Good-bye."

The couple went down to the parking lot, got in the car, and sat. "Now what?" asked Adam.

"Cold-hearted son of a -" Joan bit back the last word. "Wouldn't trust us with technical info, won't let us give Cathy useful information, thinks girlfriends are interlopers, has no friends of his own, probably for good reason. But none of that's a crime. He could still be the victim of his partner, and we may be the key to his getting justice."

"I hate to say this, but should we break our promise and tell Cathy where Darry is?" asked Adam.

"I'm tempted, but I don't think God would like it that way. Unless an avatar pops up and gives us permission to break the promise."

"Then the alternative is – "

"Going to Sarasota ourselves, yeah. Damn."

"We've got our stuff packed in the trunk. We know God's going to pay for any transportation costs. So there's nothing to stop us from driving to Kennedy Airport and buying a couple of tickets to Florida." Adam shrugged. "I guess this is a case of ripples."

"Right," said Joan. "Except usually we create the ripples. Not get caught up in them!"

She got out the map and checked the route to Kennedy Airport.

TO BE CONTINUED.


	4. Strangeness in Paradise

**THE QUEST**

**Chapter 4 Strangeness in Paradise**

"Adam and Joan Girardi-Rove? Yes, I have a reservation for you, prepaid. Welcome to Paradise Hotel."

_Great_, thought Adam_. We have an all-expenses-paid trip to the Florida beaches, exactly when we don't want it._

Neither Adam nor his wife had had the nerve to call their families and tell them of this new leg of the trip. As far as Will and Helen were concerned, they were still in Brooklyn. Adam hoped that no confusion would arise from that lie-by-omission.

Joan finished the paperwork at the desk. "We have a friend staying here, Darryl Adams. Could you tell us his room number?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we don't give out that information for reasons of privacy. If you want to leave a message, we'll see if he's here and deliver it to him, and you can make connections."

"Um, no thank you." They hadn't worked a plan for approaching Darryl yet.

A clerk accompanied them to their room, which looked ritzy. Maybe God hoped good accommodations would cheer them up. Adam looked out the window and found himself regarding a beautiful beach. The sand, the barely clothed denizens, the waters of the Gulf of Mexico all appealed to his artist's instincts, but they might also be a useful clue. "If they chose a hotel adjoining a beach like that, they must have hoped to use it. Maybe we'll find them down there."

"Yes, except we don't know what they look like, and we'll look silly wandering the beach while dressed for a Maryland winter. Hmm. Maybe Cathy can eMail us a picture of Darryl and his girlfriend."

"But we promised not to contact her."

"The particular promise was that we wouldn't say that Darryl was in Sarasota, or maybe even Florida," observed Joan. "An Email won't give that away."

"OK. I'll send her an Email, and in the meantime you can try to buy us a pair of bathing suits. There must be that sort of shop near here."

Joan went out, and Adam carefully crafted the Email request. It would be handy, he pointed out, if he and his wife could show pictures of the missing couple to possible witnesses. Cathy was apparently convinced, because a few minutes later she sent a reply with a scanned-in photo attached. Two attractive young people. Adam had no printer, but his artistic skills let him memorize the picture. If he saw the pair on the beach, he was sure he would recognize them.

Joan got back about an hour later. "Found 'em. One for you and one for me. I knew your size and guessed at the style you'd like."

"Thanks." He looked at Joan's new suit, a big one-piece designed to cover everything from the breasts to the thighs. "But what didn't you get something sexier for yourself, Jane?"

"We've been through that before. I've got a scar on my navel, and I don't want people to see it except for family and my closest friends. Besides, it's part of the plan I've thought up. I want to look drab-"

"A plain Jane?"

His wife giggled at the pun. "Yes. You see, you're going to have to stare at a lot of people to see if they match Cathy's Email, right? Won't they get suspicious?"

"Um, yes."

"But if you pretend to be a hubby with a roving eye, and I look sulky, they'll get a lot less suspicious. They'll just think you're ogling the girls."

"That's clever, but it won't be a pleasant part to play."

"I know. Do you think I WANT to look drab? The whole point of this is to find that couple as quickly as possible, so that we can head back home."

When they got down to the beach, Adam felt even weirder. His normal impulse would be to get out a sketch pad and draw the beautiful Turneresque tableau of the sky and the ocean. If he saw a sexy girl on the beach, he would normally avert his eyes out of loyalty to his wife. Instead he had to peruse each girl he saw and pretend to be attracted. Jane was doing amazingly well playing the slow-burning jealous wife, except that in Adam's opinion she was too beautiful ever to get in that situation. She had had acting lessons earlier that fall, when starring in a play at college. What's more, she had had several years during which she had had to keep up a façade, covering up the fact that she was going on missions for God.

Finally: "I've think I've spotted the girlfriend from Cathy's picture, Jane. Lizzie, wasn't that her name?" He was relieved; if they found the girl, he could stop pretending to check out other women.

"Let's wander in her direction, so you can be sure."

They walked vaguely in the girl's direction. "I'm sure, Jane." A slender blonde, with a pretty face (and good figure, Adam guiltily noted) but a worried look that one would not expect on a vacationer to Florida.

"Thank God." She raised her voice. "Do you think I'm going to just stand by while you ogle every hussy you see? Let's go jump the waves for a while. That way, unless there happens to be some mermaids out there, I'll have you to myself!"

"Yes, dear," said Adam meekly.

The wave-jumping was actually fun, not only in itself, but because he didn't have to put on an act anymore. But Jane kept looking back every few minutes at Lizzie.

"She's heading back to the hotel now, Adam. I'll try to follow her and see where her room is. Don't try to follow me – she may think you're a stalker."

"Do I really look that sinister?" He sounded hurt.

Joan ignored the last question as she walked quickly – quick enough to keep the girl in sight, not so quickly as to look suspicious, she thought.

But as they reached the patio of the hotel, suddenly Lizzie whirled around, and asked: "Who are you? What are you up to? It was bad enough seeing your wimpy boyfriend stare at my boobs, what do YOU want?"

"Excuse me – you looked familiar—" Joan floundered.

"You don't look familiar to me."

"There was a party," Joan improvised. "My friend Cathy Adams brought me – pointed you out—" She held her breath. People their age were always partying, so it seemed safe to mention one.

"Oh," said Lizzie. "Roberta's birthday. Lot of people there. Guess that's why I didn't notice you." She seemed mollified.

Joan was relieved that her bluff had worked, and followed it up with another fib. "I was so surprised to see a familiar face, a thousand miles away, that I had just had to make sure it was you."

"Yeah, small world." The girl was about to turn away when a thought seemed to strike her. "Um, could you do me a favor? Don't tell Cathy you saw me here."

"Why not?" Joan asked, playing dumb.

Lizzie hesitated. "I mean, Cathy's all right, but there's this guy we really want to avoid, and I don't want him to hear where we are."

"Well, OK." It sounded as if she disliked Lionel as much as he disliked her. She didn't know Lionel's detective has already located them.

_It's too bad Darryl's friends hate each other, and Cathy is caught in the middle. For that matter, so are we. What's so important about this falling out, that Adam and I have to dash around the country instead of joining our own families for Christmas? _

_TO BE CONTINUED_

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I read that Amber Tamblyn has a scar near her navel, which may be why we never saw Joan in revealing clothing. It was written into the second season episode "The Wealth of Nations.")_


	5. Adam Meets a Snake

**THE QUEST**

**Chapter 5 Adam Meets a Snake.**

That night, Joan and her husband lay in the comfortable, luxurious bed of their hotel room, unmoving.

"Jane?" came Adam's voice in the darkness.

"Yes?" Was he going to suggest making love? She wasn't in the mood, though she would be quite eager to do so if this was a real vacation.

But Adam had something else on his mind. "Let's go back home to Arcadia tomorrow."

"With the mission not complete?"

"Yeah. We have free will, don't we? And I'm not being self-indulgent; it's about my Dad. He lost Mom years ago, he's retired from work, he just sold the house. All he has is me. Maybe you can't empathize; your Dad has Mrs. G, and Luke, and Kevin, and Sister Lily, and he can look forward to Lily having her baby."

"No, I do empathize. But I've never just walked out on a mission before."

"If you feel strongly about staying, do you want to separate for a few days? I go home, you stay on the mission? After all the summons just came to you. Not that I want to be away from you."

"NO," Joan said firmly. She thought through the alternatives. "Look, let's give it one more day, OK? If nothing happens, we both go home."

"Hmmm – all right, one more day."

Joan didn't want to abandon her mission, and she didn't have the nerve to dicker with God over the details. But God, being omniscient, presumably knew about what the couple had decided. Would He hurry things up, or at least give them extra information to explain why it was important to stay on the mission? More importantly, would He resent being manipulated like this?

The next morning, Joan put on her bathing suit and went down to the beach again, seeking an excuse to talk to Lizzie again. Adam didn't go with her: there would be probably be people on the beach who remembered his "ROVE-ing eye" and despised him.

Adam, instead, decided to look for the couple's room. Joan had carefully noted the room number yesterday – 512 - before parting from Lizzie. Adam didn't have any plans for what to do when he got there – indeed, he rarely planned anything except his artworks – but decided to improvise.

There was a middle-aged, bearded man fiddling with the door.

He didn't look either of the people in the picture that Cathy had sent. Nor did what he was doing to the door look like simple use of the hotel's electronic keys.

"Who are you, and what are you doing at that room?" demanded Adam.

The man looked up in surprise. "This is my room. Why is it any of your business?"

"It's not your room. It belongs to – a couple I know." Instinct told Adam to give out a minimum of information. "And you're not using your card to get in. Should I call security?" That was a bluff: he didn't know any of the hotel's numbers, and would have to go back to his room to make an internal call. But it was enough to panic the man. The guilty flee whether someone pursueth or not.

The man dashed at Adam, pushed him aside, and ran for the elevators. By the time Adam regained his footing and reached the elevator bank, the man had apparently left the floor. Adam summoned another elevator and rode it to the ground floor, impatient with the fact that machinery always worked at the same speed no matter how frantic you were. By the time he reached the lobby floor and got out, there was no sign of the man.

Adam went to the main desk. "I'd like to report an attempted break-in."

He described the number of the room and gave a verbal description of the man's appearance, but even Adam could tell this wasn't accomplishing much. The security man agreed to go up to 512 and check the lock for signs of tampering; other than that nothing much could be done. Even if they found a bearded middle-aged man among the visitors in the hotel, they would be reluctant to harass him and alienate a paying customer, not when it was just Adam's word against his, and they weren't even sure they had the right suspect.

Adam remembered that he had a particular talent that might make a difference. Returning to the room he shared with Joan, he got out his sketchpad, and carefully drew a portrait of the man whom he had confronted. Provided with a good likeness rather than a vague description such as "bearded, middle-aged man", the security people might be more aggressive.

Joan had left her cell phone behind in the room, in case she ended up swimming or jumping the waves. That was frustrating, because Adam had things to tell her: not just about the attempted break-in, but his own new motivation.

The man had tried to break into somebody's hotel room. He might just have had theft in mind, maybe stealing that computer program that everybody was arguing about. But also it was possible that Lizzie was inside, in bed.

About twenty-five years ago Adam's mother-in-law Helen Girardi had been resting in bed, feeling safe, when a predator broke into her room and raped her. The act so traumatized her that even now she found it difficult to talk about; she had not told Adam for months after his marriage to Joan, changing her mind only when Sister Lily learned of the tragedy and observed that Adam should not be excluded from what the rest of the family knew.

Adam was now far more motivated in this weird mission. He wanted to step on this worm, as a symbolic blow for his mother-in-law. The time limit he had proposed for the mission no longer mattered.

The artist went down to the lobby, showed the portrait to the startled desk clerk, and sat on a lobby sofa waiting for something to happen.

What did happen was rather unexpected. A few minutes later, a woman in a hotel-maid's uniform came up to the desk with a sack. "Sir, didn't you say that the man in 427 had checked out, so I could go ahead and clean the room early?"

"That's right."

"Well, he must have gone off in an awful hurry, because he left all this stuff behind in 427."

"Hmm, thank you for be careful of his belongings. I'll put it in storage and see if he left a forwarding address."

Adam listened with interest. Could the hastily-departing gentleman be the attempted burglar, trying to get out of the hotel before Adam recognized him again? Or was it an unrelated person? Adam wished that he could have a look at that "stuff".

While he was trying to think of an idea, he was startled by the sound of several dogs barking at the hotel's main door. A shabbily dressed, bearded man with five dogs on a leash was trying to walk in with all his animals. It was the one Joan called Dog-walker God.

"Wait a minute, you can't bring all those dogs here," called the desk clerk.

The dog-walker spoke. He had a wild manner that must have looked to the desk clerk like craziness or drunkenness, though Adam knew that it must be an act. "But I'm here on business. A lady here wanted her poodle walked—"

"Well, give me her room number and I'll call her. But you'll have to keep the animals outside."

Grumbling, the dog-walker tried with apparent clumsiness to maneuver all the dogs back out the door. One dog got loose and started running across the lobby. Shouting, the desk clerk left the desk and tried to catch the dog.

God didn't make mistakes. If he let one dog go, it must have been on purpose. It had the effect of luring the desk clerk away from the sack from room 427, not yet in storage.

Adam dashed behind the counter and crouched down. He might have a few seconds. Rummaging through the junk, he found a passport and opened it to the photo page. It was his burglar. Looking further, he found a plane ticket, with the destination showing prominently: National Airport, Washington DC. The burglar must have really been panicked, to leave this stuff behind. A plane ticket might get reprinted at the airport, but Adam remembered from his summer Europe trip that getting a passport was like pulling teeth.

He didn't dare hide here further. He dashed from the counter and sat in a lobby chair, trying to look innocent. The dog lost interest in creating a ruckus and let the hotel clerk drag it over to the dog-walker. Adam wondered exactly what the dog was. A part of God? An angel in disguise? Or a real dog recruited as a prop? Whatever it was, it had given Adam the opportunity he had needed.

Joan showed up about half an hour later, accompanied by Lizzie and the programmer. Apparently she had managed to wriggle into their confidence somehow. Adam rushed up to the trio with the portrait, which the clerk had returned to him after making a photocopy. Lizzie gave him a dirty look: he belatedly remembered that she thought of him as the skirt-chaser who had stared at her "boobs". For a different reason, Joan glared at him as well, apparently fearing that Adam would undo her work getting their confidence.

That didn't matter. Adam described the attempted break-in and showed them the picture. It didn't have the precise effect he expected.

"I wish people would butt out of our business!" exclaimed Lizzie. "Maybe you did stop a burglary. Or maybe YOU'RE trying to rip us off, and are trying to divert our attention to the other guy. I don't know what you're up to either," she added, glaring at Joan. "Darry, let's pack and get out of here. And don't leave a forwarding address!" She took her boyfriend's arm and they walked briskly to the elevators.

"Damn," muttered Joan. "Now we're back to square one."

"No," said Adam triumphantly. "I know where the next square is. Washington, DC!"

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Flight or Fight

**THE QUEST**

**Chapter 6 Flight or Fight**

"Luke?"

"joan?" came a small voice from her cell phone.

"Could you speak louder? There's a lot of noise in the background."

"I can hear it. Where are you?"

"At an airport catching a plane to Washington DC."

"Why are you flying from New York to Washington?"

"Um, we're not. We're flying from Florida to Washington."

"FLORIDA. What are you doing in Florida? Well, dumb question. I'd like to be in the Florida sun right now. But you told Mom you were going to Brooklyn!"

"Yeah, long story— is the family missing us?"

"Let's just say there's a lot going on. I'm going to celebrate Hannukah with the Polonskys, since they're lonely with Grace still abroad, and I want to learn more about her heritage. Sister Lily is in a Christmas pageant; apparently they thought it would be cool to have a Virgin Mary that was really pregnant, riding on a donkey. Mom is painting some of the scenery. Dad's on a big case, though he doesn't seem to want to talk about it. Like you."

"Touche. OK, let me explain—"

She described the whole story as much as she understood it. "At first I thought it was a spat between two nerds – ulp, sorry. But others are getting involved. That burglar wannabe may have wanted to steal the idea, and God wants us to get involved. Can you make any sense of this?"

"Being a fellow nerd?" Luke asked in annoyance.

"Um, nerd in a Pickwickian sense?" She had picked up the term reading in the bookstore.

"What is – oh, never mind. Well, I know some background which may be relevant. Back in the 1970s, the Xerox Corporation came up with some of the computer ideas that we take for granted today – menus, dialog boxes, mouse clicks. But they dropped the ideas and didn't patent them. That put the ideas in the public domain, so that everybody can use them without paying royalties to the inventor. If somebody HAD patented them, the owner of the patent would be a billionaire by now. On the other hand, the extra cost might have discouraged people from using the ideas, and the history of computers might have been very different."

"So these two computer guys might be on the track of something big. Something with a lot of ripples."

"It's possible. Unless you can find out more about that program, that's the best I can suggest."

"Right. OK, here's a more practical question. We know the burglar guy is trying to get to Washington from here, but he's definitely not in the waiting area for this flight. Can you find out what his alternatives are?"

"Should be easy; there are already programs on the web for mapping an itinerary."

"Oops, they're announcing our flight now, and we probably won't be allowed to use our cell phones in the air. We'll call you again when we land."

"OK."

On the flight up, Joan filled her husband in on Luke's suggestions.

"So this mainly a business dispute," concluded Joan. "It seems odd that a little family business could have a major effect on the computer world, but stranger things have happened. A single mother writes HARRY POTTER and makes herself a multi-millionaire. But God has never had us intervene in a business dispute before."

"I think it's something bigger," said Adam. "Trying to break into somebody's hotel room. Do you think that's the detective that Lennie hired?"

"No. I met a detective friend of Dad's last year, Keith Mars, and he told me about the business. Legitimate detectives have to follow rules to keep their licenses."

"Then maybe the burglar is a third party who hopes to steal the programmers' ideas."

"Or working for the third party, more likely. I suspect his employer is in Washington. If we trail the guy, we may find the real thief."

"And then?"

"I don't know. Maybe it'll be clear when the time comes, and we can go home afterward."

So they sat. Luke had once pointed out the paradox of air travel: more than a century ago it would have struck people as science fiction, but actually experiencing it was deadly dull. They had not brought reading material; they could not communicate with the outside world, and they both wanted to be somewhere else: in Arcadia.

Finally they landed and were permitted to use their cells again. Luke had done good research. "Sarasota is just a regional airport, so the options there were limited. There are basically two alternatives the guy could have taken: a flight to Washington with a local stop in Orlando, or he could have travelled to Tampa Bay and caught a plane. Either way, he won't have arrived in Washington yet, even with his original head start. When he does arrive, his path will be constrained by the fact that there are security bottlenecks at various points of the airport."

"Just two. So Adam can watch for him at one bottleneck, and I can watch at the other. What are the times?"

"The Atlanta flight should arrive at 4:00, and the Tampa Bay flight at 4:20."

"We'll have to rush, then. Good thing we have our luggage with us."

Joan stood at the "bottleneck" keeping an eye out for the man in Adam's picture. If anybody asked, she'd pretend that she was watching for her boyfriend, and the questioner would think that was romantic.

A B C E E F G went her cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Jane, this is Adam. I've spotted him."

"Great! Where are you?"

"Hard to describe. I think he's headed toward Ground Transportation; better head there."

"OK"

A few minutes later, another A B C E E F G.

"Yes?"

"Saw him walk to the Avis rent-a-car, but then I think he saw me. He changed direction, heading for the taxi stand."

"I'm almost there. Try to get in line behind him."

Joan finally reached the taxi stand. Her husband was standing behind the bearded man, who was giving him dirty looks but obviously was reluctant to do anything violent in a crowded area. Just as Joan joined Adam, the man got in a cab. Fortunately there was another cab right behind it, and the Girardi-Roves piled in the back seat, luggage and all.

"Follow that car!" yelled Joan.

"For real?" asked the cabby. "I thought that only happened in TV shows."

"It's for real! Go."

The cab pulled out, and a relieved Joan turned to her husband. "Déjà vu. I got in a car chase the last time I was in Washington."

"How did that happen?"

"I was driving around with Keith Mars' daughter Veronica, and she spotted something suspicious. Turned out to be right, too." She did not want to add that when she and Veronica Mars got back to their dads, they both got an angry lecture about endangering their lives. Was she doing it again?

The taxis went northwest, then on the 14th street bridge over the Potomac River. So far Joan was in familiar territory. But after crossing the Mall and the northern half of the Smithsonian complex, the taxi in front of them turned east, into what Joan considered unknown territory. She had visited Washington as a tourist before, and nearly all the tourist sites were on the west side of the city.

About fifteen minutes later Joan was feeling hopelessly lost, and a remark from the cabdriver confirmed that it wasn't just subjective. "Whoever it is we're following, they're going in circles. Either they're trying to lose us, or the other driver is ripping off his customer taking the long way. Not that I would think of doing such a thing," he added hastily.

"Just keep going," Joan commanded. In ordinary circumstances she would be aghast at the fare she was running up: it would probably take all their cash, and she was relying on God supplying more funds, maybe at an ATM.

Finally, the cab in front of them stopped and the bearded man got out. Maybe he had run out of money. He walked into an alley that was definitely too small for their cab to follow.

"Let's go after him, Adam!"

"Hey!" said the driver. "You can't leave without paying."

"Jane, you stay and settle the fare. Here's my wallet. I'll chase the guy," said Adam, getting out.

Joan was inclined to argue, but realized that doing so would delay them and let their quarry get away. Sulkily, she sat with their luggage and looked through her purse, while Adam took action.

The man was apparently doing the circles trick again, zigzagging predictably. Adam was glad that he had a photographic memory; he might need it to find his way back to Jane and the taxi.

In another set of alleys, the bearded man turned a corner. Adam followed – and found himself facing another man, who was pointing a gun at him.

"Surrender or be shot," the man ordered.

Adam indulged in a little theological speculation. Would God protect his life so that he could complete the mission. Or would the gunman have free will, and decide to shoot Adam if he didn't cooperate? Maybe Joan was the only one for whom God had future plans.

Adam raised his hands in surrender.

TO BE CONTINUED

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Joan's ring tone is the first line of the show's theme tune, "What if God was one of us?") _

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I described Joan's adventure with Veronica Mars in a previous story on this JOAN site, entitled LO, I WILL TELL YOU A MYSTERY) _

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: "In a Pickwickian sense" is a line from Dickens' PICKWICK PAPERS, meaning that you don't intend an insult seriously)_


	7. MEPHISTO's  Serenade

**THE QUEST**

**Chapter 7 MEPHISTO's Serenade**

They had gone around a couple of corners when they encountered a hulking thug.

Adam was at first terrified that this guy was some sort of enforcer, who would beat Adam up to get information out of him. But the gunman looked completely startled to see him, and Adam suddenly realized who this new guy was: the avatar Joan called Tough Guy God.

The Tough Guy smiled at the gunman. "Let my people go."

Unnerved, the gunman raised his weapon and shot. It was not clear to Adam what happened next – indeed, some miracle may have been involved – but the bullets seemed to have no harm, and instead the gun itself flew into the Tough Guy's hand. Adam's kidnappers turned into wusses now that the firepower was on the other side, and turned to run. Adam managed to trip the bearded man as he rushed past.

The Tough Guy handed the gun to Adam and then walked off with His usual wave, as if they had had a pleasant encounter and He had handed Adam a nice present. Adam would have laughed if the situation wasn't so dire. Talk about a _deus ex machina_ resolution – at least that answered Adam's theological question. God seemed to be taking more action on this mission than normal, which increased the mystery – why was this case so important?

Adam pointed his gun at the bearded man, who was just now getting up. The gun had an intimidating effect, though Adam had no intention of shooting it unless he was actually in great danger. "Walk. We're going to rejoin my partner."

The bearded man seemed to put up no resistance – sneaking around seemed to be more his thing. As Adam forced him back on a route to the taxi, he muttered, "I TOLD them I was a software expert, not a spy. Why did they put me into this situation?" He seemed to be a lot more annoyed at his employers than he was at Adam.

"Why did you go work for them?"

"Money. Recruit a couple of hackers and I'd get a huge commission, they said. They didn't say what would happen if I failed to recruit them."

Adam thought an unusually high reward might have been a tipoff that something sinister was involved, but some people were just too blinded by the greed. He didn't question the man now. Jane deserved to be in on the conversation.

As they finally reached the taxi, Adam put the gun in his coat pocket, hoping that it wouldn't go off. The taxi driver might object to driving with a gun in the back seat. But the bearded man seemed defeated; he simply climbed into the taxi so that he was sitting between Jane and Adam. Their luggage was gone from the back seat; maybe Joan had taken advantage of the wait to move it into the trunk.

"A good hotel, please," she said to the driver. "I'll leave it to your judgment."

"OK. Just remember you're paying for three people now." He must have known the third passenger was joining them under odd circumstances, and didn't seem to care.

"All right, now," said Adam. "Tell us what is going on. To start with, what's your name?"

"Henry Wagner."

"Let's see an ID," demanded Jane. Adam didn't know whether her father had given her pointers in how to do investigations, or whether she was trying to look like detective. Either way, he memorized the driver's license number when Jane passed him the card. "What is this software program that everybody is after?"

"Hmm," muttered the bearded man. "Do you know the computer term "daemon"? D A E M O N."

"I'm afraid not."

"It's a program that runs on its own, without displaying questions or results to the user. Often a user doesn't even know the program exists; it may be started by another program. That technology has been known for years. But these two guys have taken the idea to a whole new level. The Mephisto program. They say it stands for Multi-Function System Technology Organizer."

"It's also probably a pun," said Adam. "Mephistopheles was the demon in the Faust legend, supposed to me one of the most powerful ones. So they're bragging that they have the most powerful daemon program." He had read a book of legends several years earlier, looking for symbols to include in his art. "So what does it do?"

"It travels around the Internet like a virus. But unlike the viruses, it acts in an orderly fashion, carrying out the owner's commands. It can decide where it needs to go to carry out the commands. It can even rewrite itself to fit a new environment. In the end the programmers also wanted to make it untraceable, so that the owner could remain anonymous."

"What sort of commands?" asked Jane.

"All sorts. They could be perfectly harmless. It wasn't until I got too deep in this mess that I realized that the technology could do things like take over a government's computer system, or the stock market. And it couldn't be trapped, because it could rewrite itself to evade any sort of anti-virus software."

Adam thought back on the legend. Mephistopheles supposedly carried out Faust's wishes, but he did so in a cold-blooded way. Asked to help Faust win a girl, he arranged for her seduction by sending her jewelry and isolating her from mentors. When Faust got in a sword-fight, the demon not only helped him win but killed the opponent. Later he killed an elderly couple who got in the way of one of Faust's well-intended projects. Morally, it was still Faust's fault for not keeping track of what his demon was doing in his behalf.

A computer program would be equally cold-blooded, not because it was evil, but because it had no notion of pain, or death, or moral consequences. With no emotions, it could do whatever without guilt. Its only concern was carrying out its program. And if it was designed to work on its own, it might do thing that its owner might not even have intended. Adam was beginning to get a glimmer of why this software was important. Anybody who got a monopoly of the program would acquire a tremendous amount of power.

"What went wrong?" he asked.

The bearded man frowned. "I tried to go about it honestly. Offered the programmers a huge fee if they'd sell exclusive use of the program to my employers. Lenny seemed interested. But the girl, Elizabeth, was suspicious of me for some reason, and urged Darryl not to deal with me. And when I persisted, she persuaded Darryl to take her on a vacation – and take the crucial hardware with him. Lenny tried to cover up for a while, but finally admitted that he would fall behind Darryl if the latter had the hardware advantage. Then my employer turned nasty. Said if I didn't get control of the system, what would happen to me was a lot worse than just being fired."

Suddenly things were making sense. Darryl and Elizabeth weren't trying to steal the program from Lenny; it was a matter of Elizabeth trying to keep Lenny from selling it, and for a very ethical reason. And of course she got on edge when intrigue followed them, and she couldn't tell whether Adam, or the Bearded Man, or both, were the bad guy.

"So you tried to break into their room in Florida while they were at the beach," speculated Adam. "Then you realized I had seen you, and you panicked, all the way back to Washington."

Wagner winced. "It was crucial not to let any hint of the project get out. If it did, other people would be trying to steal the software too. If a big company, or a government, found out just a little, they could fund their own megaproject and not have to deal with Darryl or Lennie at all."

Jane and Adam stared at each other, realizing that there was a moral question for them. Did God want them to keep the secret as well? If so, what were they to do with Wagner? Turning him in to police would create a lot of confusion, particularly since Adam and Jane could not explain their own roles.

"Mariott hotel ahead," announced the cabby.

Jane seemed to come to a decision. "All right, Wagner. We're letting you go. But we're keeping your license, enough to identify you if you create any more trouble for us."

"Fine. I'm getting out of here."

Adam let him out, while Jane made the final settlement with the cabby. "And an extra tip if you promise not to talk about this," she added.

"I promise. Interesting trip with you three," said the driver. "Am I ever going to find out how this ended up?"

"To quote a British expression," said Jane, "not bloody likely."

Later, in bed, in a room of the Mariott (paid for by grace of God), the couple discussed what they had learned.

"So at last we know why the argument was sort of important," said Jane. "It was never just a matter of two guys in a business dispute. The software itself was dangerous."

"Yes," agreed Adam. "But the question is, what we are supposed to about it? Basically all we accomplished was to scare off this Wagner guy from spying on Darryl, but he was just a cog in the machine. His employers are still around and still greedy. Are we supposed to stop them somehow?"

"I suppose an avatar will pop up tomorrow and tell us the next step," Jane said wearily. "Until then, we've got our lives to ourselves."

They discussed making love, but had to refrain, for purely practical reasons. They had been expecting to go straight home from school, so they had not packed in birth control. Jane said she thought she was in the most fertile phase of her month.

"I'm not ready to have a baby," she admitted. "I know Sister Lily's looking forward to it, but she's ten years older than me. I want to get through college first."

"But in the long run—"

"Yes, I'd love to have your children. Plus—" her voice turned bitter. "I suppose HE wants me to have kids too."

"W-why do you say that?"

"This business of being in tune with God is supposed to run in the family, all the way back to a female prophetess in the Old Testament. Even Lily's gotten affected temporarily, just because she has a special baby in her womb. So of course He'd want to keep the family running."

"Umm." Adam had once been nervous at the idea of being intimate with a "holy woman", so much so that he had developed a case of what Jane miscalled "importations". Now he felt intimidated in quite a different way. To be blunt about it, God probably wanted to breed helpers, the way Morgiana Begh's family bred horses. So Jane was the crucial broodmare, and what did that make Adam? He didn't know the technical term for the male animal that serviced the important female, and didn't want to think it anyway.

It was degrading to think in those terms: they were human beings, not horses. At least none of the avatars had brought up the matter yet. But God definitely didn't mind intervening in their lives.

And he wanted kids, in the long run. Why take a happy outcome for everybody, and turn it into something sinister?

With these disturbing thoughts in mind, he fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, a noise woke him up. At first he thought his wife may have gotten up, to go to the bathroom. But as he shifted position, he felt Jane at his side in the bed. She was waking up, too.

"Who's there?" he called out.

The room lights came on, and he found some heavyset men glaring at them. Jane screamed.

"Shut up, " said one of the men, pulling out another gun. Adam had thrown his captured gun in one of the clothes drawers, out of reach. "I don't know how you got away, but we're not going to make the same mistake twice. You're coming with us!"

TO BE CONTINUED


	8. Resolution?

**THE QUEST**

**Chapter 8 Resolution?**

"Who are you working for?" demanded the interrogator.

Joan thought that would be very difficult to answer. Naturally she couldn't say that she was sent on this mission by God. Nor could she simply make up a story. She had been separated from Adam, who was mostly likely being questioned at the same time. If their tales did not match up, the captors would know that at least one of them was lying. She was helplessly tied up in a chair; and vulnerable to whatever they chose to do to her. Her one advantage was that they seemed to be concentrating on Adam rather than her, mistaking him for the leader of the team. It gave her some reprieve, but she was terrified of what they might be doing to her beloved.

She had to figure out what her husband might say, and confirm it.

"Who are you working for?" he asked again.

"We don't know His real identity," she finally said. "We just deal with Him through intermediaries." That was nearly true, though the questioner would think she was describing some earthly bigwig.

"How do you contact him?"

"He usually takes the initiative."

"What if you had really crucial information to give him?"

The omnipotent God would know it and appear to Joan, but she couldn't say that. "There are several ways we could get his attention. If we wanted to do it tomorrow, we would stand outside the American History museum at 11:30." The history museum, the repository of such curiosities as one of the first American flags, a statue of Washington as a seminude Greek god, and the ruby slippers from WIZARD OF OZ, was one of the most visited places in Washington, it would be hard to keep the Girardi-Roves under control surrounded by a crowd.

Unfortunately, that was obvious to the questioner. "Name another way."

"You know, if you put out this much effort on something useful, you might not need a super computer program to get rich."

"Shut up. Name another way."

Joan made several suggestions, all equally useless. The questioner got up. "I'm going to report what you've told me. She's not likely to be pleased, so you better have a more useful suggestion by the time I get back." He went out through the door, and she heard a lock click. She was alone, in a windowless room of what seemed to be a warehouse.

Joan sat, immobilized and quite a bit scared, trying to figure out how much danger she was in. God had helped Adam escape last evening, but would He do it again? The record was not encouraging; God hated taking direct action. He had not cured Kevin, or Joan herself when they were seriously ill. He had not rescued little Rocky from death, nor Judith. And she remembered the last time she was kidnapped, a couple of months earlier.

Her captors on the previous occasion were Ryan Hunter, Ramsey, and a really bitchy girl named Lena. All three had vendettas against Joan. Hunter wanted to strike at God through his handymaid, Ramsey blamed Joan for getting him arrested three years ago, and Lena, who had lusted after Judith, thought Joan had "stolen her girlfriend". Joan had endured several days of terror, without divine intervention, and God's only excuse for nonaction had been that He foreknew that she would be rescued anyway.

This time the captors were not animated by any particular hatred of Joan. Their focus was on getting control of the Mephisto program, and Joan and Adam were simply in their way. They weren't vicious, but they might turn so if they didn't get their way.

It was at this point that Joan heard a commotion outside the door – shouting, without being able to make out the words. Suddenly the door opened and the questioner dashed in. Outside somebody was shouting "You're under arrest" and she realized that her captors were under attack by the police.

"You're coming with me," he said coldly. Slipping behind Joan, he somehow managed to free her from the chair while still keeping her hands helplessly bound. Then he seized her arm and dragged her out of the room.

They were now in the central part of the warehouse, an open area surrounded by boxes and shelves. Her captor started toward one of the doors, but before he could step more than a few steps, uniformed officers came through and pointed their weapons at him.

The man grabbed Joan and held her in front of him as a human shield, with one arm around her neck and the other pointing a gun pointed at her head. "Don't come any closer or I'll shoot her!"

The attackers froze. Joan herself stood still for several seconds, as if frightened into docility. But she carefully raised her leg and then thrust it back suddenly. The heel of her boot connected with the man's kneecap. It was remarkably lucky accuracy – or divine intervention?

The man yelled and lost his grip, and Joan tried to dodge forward. Would he retaliate by shooting her?

BLAM.

Joan froze in terror – then realized that she was unhurt and the sound of the shot had come from her side, several feet away. She turned around and saw her assailant crumple to the ground, bleeding from the head. Then she turned aside to see her rescuer was.

"DAD!"

The death of one of their team took the spirit out of the others, though certainly that had not been her Dad's purpose in shooting to kill. An arcane matter of stolen software had turned into a matter of life and death. There was a confused period as the group was rounded up, and Joan and Adam were unable to talk with her Dad for a time. Will Girardi himself seemed shaken by the fact that he had had to kill somebody.

The police – the FBI, it turned out - sat down in a warehouse room to review the case, and Joan learned about the proceedings from the government's point of view. The government already had some tips about a dangerous software project, though not firm enough to justify action. What finally galvanized them to act were three successive incidents: Lizzie going to an FBI office in Florida to ask for protection against a stalker, then Wagner's decision to turn himself in and tell the police his story, hoping for clemency for his role in it. The disappearance of the two "young detectives" who had captured Wagner clinched the matter. So apparently Joan and Adam had triggered a crisis and brought about a resolution while blundering around the country trying to figure out their mission. Good ripples, if you didn't count the dead guy.

The FBI was accompanied by an odd character, a rather handsome civilian whom they addressed as Professor Epps, or Charlie. Somebody asked Charlie if he thought the danger was over.

"The immediate danger, yes. We've rounded up the gang, and the programmers are more aware now of the sinister implications of their work. But the underlying problem is still there. Sooner or later somebody else will think of the Mephisto idea again, maybe under a different name. As programming tools become more powerful, somebody else will try to create a similar program. And a third person, and a fourth. Eventually somebody may succeed."

"And a madman will be in control of the internet," brooded the FBI leader.

"That's not even the worst that can happen," Charlie pointed out. "Imagine TWO Mephisto programs, put on the Internet by rival groups. They would battle each other, and at some point the Mephistos are likely to think of a scorched-earth policy – deliberately destroying data to keep the other side from getting it. That sort of thing could wreck the internet altogether, and when we consider how important the network is for the world economy – I doubt that this group were even thinking about that possibility. They just had visions of great power dancing in their head."

But God has foreseen it, and had deployed Adam and Joan to stir up the waters a bit. Joan hoped that, now that Lennie and Darry understood the dangers, far more serious than a matter of software ownership, they might get back together and work out a less ambitious version of their project.

"I don't want to sound unconcerned," said Will, "but this sort of cyber-threat is not my thing. My training is in protecting society against human adversaries. May I be excused from the meeting, with my daughter and son-in-law?"

"Go ahead," said the FBI leader. "There will be a hearing about the use of deadly force, but I'm sure you'll be cleared, since the culprit definitely threatened the girl. And the fact that it was your daughter will clinch the matter."

"Yes, I agree a hearing should be held," said Will. "We should never get casual about violent death."

Will, Joan, and Adam walked back into the central room, trying not to look at the yellow tape and outline marking where Joan's assailant had fallen. "Dad, what are you doing here?" asked Joan. "You're the Arcadia police chief, not FBI!"

"Consultant," said Will. "You see, the conspirators had an ally in the government, somebody I knew and could advise them how to handle. A lady named Lucy Preston." He scowled at the thought of Ms. Preston.

"That sounds familiar – wasn't she the lady who threatened to arrest Grace last year, thinking she was a terrorist?"

"Yes. And probably she was already involved in this scheme, the hypocrite. But I have a more important question, Joan. What are you two doing here?"

Joan had been asked similar questions for more than 3 years, and had usually come up with a white lie. Today, still stunned that she had nearly been murdered, she was weary of the charade. "I can't give you an explanation, Dad."

"You owe me an explanation, Joan! I killed a man because you put yourself in danger!" Her father looked angry. Joan didn't think he was mad at her though, but rather the situation.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Dad."

"I – how can you say that when I've just saved your life, Joan? I love you, darling."

"Chief Girardi?" came the FBI leader's voice. "We need your advice. Ms Preston seems to have disappeared."

Will, devoted to duty, turned to answer the summons, leaving Joan alone with her husband.

"Damn," said Joan.

"Look on the bright side, Jane," said Adam. "At least we can go home now."

"Yeah," mumbled Joan bitterly. "Home to a Dad I can't communicate with. Merry Christmas to us. Maybe we'll be lucky and God will send us on another wild quest—"

THE END

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Charlie Epps is the mathematician-detective from the TV show NUMBERS. I had him appear in an earlier JOAN story, NOT WITH A BANG, the same one in which Lucy made Grace a suspect in a case of terrorism__. I don't have any rights to use Epps, either, so the usual disclaimers apply.)_

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Joan's previous captivity was described in an earlier story called IN THE MIDST OF MY ENEMIES)_


End file.
